


Hostile Forgiveness

by NovaofMink



Category: Gundam Wing, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Groping, Happy Ending, Kissing, Mentioned Himuro Tatsuya - Freeform, Mentioned Joseph Wilson, Mentioned Kise Ryouta, Mentioned Rachel Roth, Mentioned Richard Grayson, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaofMink/pseuds/NovaofMink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quatre and Trowa are now happily married.  Dorothy did all the 'I'm happy for you, lets be friends' shit, now she could just stop pretending and be miserable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hostile Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> This is my OTP in Gundam Wing. I may be alone, but I totally ship Dorothy x Quatre x Trowa. So this was written for me, but feel free to enjoy it too.
> 
>  
> 
> (no teen titans make an appearance in this fic)

Hostile Forgiveness  
by Nova of Mink

 

Dorothy sank down on the couch of her hotel suite. Glancing at the clock on the wall, 9:00pm, Trowa and Quatre should be on the plane for their honeymoon now.

She stared at the blank TV with a bitter smile. It was finally over. She had done her part, played the supportive best friend, for her ex-lover. All of the tedious responsibilities of the Matron of Honor, Rehearsal dinner, flower arrangements, tux fittings, she even hired the male strippers for his bachelor party.

That she had finished the night with the blonde stripper in her bed screaming Quatre’s name, was her business.

Damn it, she wanted Quatre to be happy. But it didn’t change the fact that she also wanted to break every bit of glass in the room.

Selfishly, she wanted him to be happy with her. Dorothy thought rubbing her chest at the phantom pain. But she’d lost that war. She’d fought the good fight, put everything she had into winning him. No, she didn’t have regrets. There was nothing more she could have done to keep him.

Trowa wanted him and Trowa got him. End of story.

She refused to acknowledge the burning at the back of her eyes. It was over, tears were pointless.

She’d been a coward at the end, Dorothy could admit it; bailing on the reception. All the details had been taken care of, food, champagne, wedding cake, and music, all perfect. An empty chair at the main table would have been awkward. So, the last thing she did before leaving was rearrange the table, remove her place card and chair. The damn card was still in her purse.

One more speech wouldn’t be missed, a few close friends would wonder, but not enough to ruin the special day.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, people would start calling. Checking to make sure she was alright, offer support. Hell, Relena had been giving her looks during the ceremony. Dorothy knew her face had given nothing away. She’d spent the last six months perfecting the ‘we are just friends and I’m happy for him’ smile. Like she wanted any of their fucking pity.

That was just one of the reasons she was here in this hotel under a fake name. She was taking a week to herself; she didn’t think that was too much to ask. Then she would return, hopefully with a new plan, a new path.

The wedding was finally over, now it was time to get on with her own life.

There was a soft knock at the door. That would be her bottle of vodka.

She looked through the peep hole confirming the cart and iced bucket. Pulling the door wide she pointed to the couch, “Just leave it there.”

The man moved quietly into the room, Dorothy was extracting a tip from her purse when she finally looked at the waiter’s face. She froze in shock.

“What are you doing here?”

Silently, a single green eye watched her.

“You’re supposed to be on a flight to Hawaii.” How fucking cliché’ was that?

“Quatre was upset that you didn’t stay for the reception.”

Dorothy's jaw clenched for a moment. How much of their happiness was going to be rubbed in her face? Quatre would never do something maliciously, but damn if it didn't sometimes feel like it. She relaxed, falling back into her part in this farce of a play. 

She waved it off with a smile. “There were plenty of well wishers there; I wrote the guest lists remember.” She did a good job of hiding the bitterness in those words. “I’m sure Duo’s best man speech was funny and heartfelt, who wants to compete with that.”

Dorothy moved to the bottle by the couch and poured herself a generous glass of vodka.

“So, how did you find me?” she asked turning back to him. “I’m not even in the same city.”

A slight smile curled the edge of his lip, “If you had really wanted to hide, you would have picked a different name, ‘Rachel Roth’”

Dorothy blushed, taking a drink from her glass. One of her favorite bedroom games had been Raven x Jericho. Quatre spread out on the bed forbidden to speak while she tortured him to orgasm. She was by turns embarrassed and angry that Quatre had shared this information with Trowa. If he knew that, then he had to know her nick name for him was Dick.

“Okay, you found me.” Dorothy sat on the couch, leaning back with fake casualness. “So, what do you want?”

“Quatre misses you.”

Dorothy snorted, not very lady like, but she wasn't feeling like trying. “Excuse me if I find that hard to believe. I did just attend your wedding. Encase you've forgotten.”

He didn’t respond the silence stretched thick between them.

Damn it, he won, he now had everything she wanted, why couldn’t they just leave her alone, so she could stop pretending it didn’t hurt?

“Look Trowa, tell Quatre I miss him too and that you both have my best wishes. Its over and I have moved on. He doesn’t have to worry about me.” The practiced lie slid easily from her lips.

“Forgive us if we don’t believe you." Trowa said, mocking her earlier statement. "Quatre was quite hurt at the ‘professional’ company you’ve been keeping.”

Trowa dropped a photo on the table. She could tell from the angle and location that it was one of her own security cameras. It was the blonde stripper, who happened to be an escort on the side. “I don’t see the problem. Kise is cute and funny, he kind of reminds me of Duo.” When I let him speak, which he is completely forbidden to do in my bedroom.

“Also," She continued, "You can tell Heero to mind his own fucking business or I’ll hire a different security company.”

Trowa ignored the last out burst. He dropped a second photo on the table. This one was much grainier; the hotel security camera was no where near the quality of her own. Unfortunately, it was clear enough to pick out the features of her companion. She had been very careful to only meet him at hotels, never at her home, and changing the location each time.

She refused to look at Trowa, keeping her head down and away. It was her secret, her guilty pleasure, her shame. 

He moved close to the couch, his pant leg brushed her knee. She felt him lean down, his mouth near her ear. “I met Himuro,” he spoke softly into her ear. Her cheeks flushed and heart beat accelerate. “He is the strong quiet type and has a habit of wearing his hair draped over one eye.” His hot breath against her skin caused a riot of tingling to sweep down her spine.

She pulled away until her head made contact with the sofa back. An intense green eye stared at her from inches away.

“When you register him, you always use the name Richard Grayson.”

The hammer fell, the last nail in the coffin. He knew. He knew she wanted him. Shame and anger bubbled up inside her. It was all his fault. They left the damn door unlocked, she had walked into Quatre’s home office, and they had been kissing. She had watched them touching each other, listened to the amazing sounds pour from Quatre's throat. They had moved toward the desk and she had fled, but the image stayed. She’d lost track of the number of times she masturbated to that image.

“Why are you doing this?” She let anger push back her embarrassment. “You have Quatre, who I fuck is my business.”

“I’m disappointed in you Dorothy.”

She opened her mouth to say 'like I give a shit'.

But he continued, “Settling for a cheap copy when you could have had the real thing.”

Her brain barely processed what he said, when he lips settled on hers. This was no sweet meeting and slow build. This was hot, fast, and deep. His tongue was hot and firm, immediately setting to dominate hers. She met him with equal vigor, relishing the moist battle. Her fingers thrust into his hair, holding him tight against her. Somewhere along the line she had lost her glass. Moister gathered low in her body, blood thundered through her veins. She had known it would be like this, hot scorching desire. Trowa was right Himuro had been a poor substitute. A part of her knew she should push him away, but another more desperate part and had wanted this for so long.

He slid her along the back of the couch till she was lying on the cushions, his weight settling on top of her.

She wanted so badly to wrap her legs around his waist and just let it happen. One night, one time, she would remember it for the rest of her life. Store it away with all her memories of Quatre, to be pulled out and relived again and again with her fingers, her vibrator, or a random stranger with green eyes or blonde hair.

The part of her that loved Quatre couldn’t let this happen. This man, no matter how much she wanted him, just married the person she loved most in the world. This couldn’t happen; she wouldn’t be the one to do this to him.

Moving her hands to Trowa’s shoulders, she pushed him away.

“Stop.” she said in a shaky voice.

He hovered over her, his eye smoldering.

“You have to go back to Quatre.”

His eye followed her lips, not making any move to rise. “I’m here for Quatre.”

“I don’t understand.” Her brain was sluggish with lust, but she kept an internal mantra. I won't hurt Quatre. I won't hurt Quatre. I won't hurt Quatre. 

“Dorothy, Quatre never had any intention of letting you go.” She desperately tried to follow the conversation, but it didn’t make any sense. He wanted to keep her, so he got married. And now his husband’s hot length was still pressing into her thigh. “You are the one who told him to choose. 'Him or me, pick one', that is what you told him.” His hands slid along her rib cage, thumbs pushing at the underside of her breasts. “So, he came to me and told me what happened. I didn’t have any problem with my attraction to you, but you were disappointingly old fashioned.”

She blinked at him in confusion. Trowa brought his mouth down to her sensitive ear. “He didn’t know if you loved him enough to try. So, he tested you. How far would you go?” He bit her neck drawing a gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders. “You did so well, giving everything, asking nothing.” His tongue laved the bite, soothing the pain, fire burned along her veins. “But Dorothy, those men; that almost broke him. He’s missed you so badly.” He kissed his way back up to her ear. “You should have come to the reception Dorothy.” She loved how he breathed her name; it took all she had not to grind up against him. “We had a surprise for you.”

Trowa finally pulled back, cool air rushing over her heated body. He reached behind him and pulled something out of his pocket. Grabbing one of her hands, he placed it in her palm.

She pulled it close, trying to focus on the print. It was a plane ticket. With her name destination Honolulu, Hawaii.

“You are coming with us.” Trowa said, “Where ever this life is taking us, you are going too.”

There was a knock at the door.

Trowa rose, offering Dorothy a hand up. She took it and stood unsteadily on her feet.

This couldn’t be happening. The last six months had been torture. She was hurt, she was angry, how could he have done this to her?

Pulling herself together, she stomped over to the door and opened it without looking.

Quatre stood with their suitcase at his feet. He smiled down at her. “This isn’t exactly where I would have picked to spend our honeymoon, but I won’t argue with your tastes. This room has a California king and a hot tub built for five. I got us all checked in, Joseph Wilson and Dick Grayson are officially staying with Rachel Roth, Suite 2.”

“Quatre Raberba Winner!” Dorothy said her tone full of fury.

He gazed down at her with his gentle eyes, so full of love and compassion.

All of the pain of losing him, the self abuse she had gone through, the mental torture of seeing him with someone else. It all built up inside her. How could she forgive him? She had torn her own heart out, wanting him to be happy. Willing to do anything to make that happen. And it all had been a test, some kind of game. What did he really think would happen when she found out? That she would throw herself into his arms, that everything would be forgiven?

She reached up, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down for a fierce and desperate kiss. They were both breathless when she pulled away.

“Payback is going to be a bitch,” she whispered, “but not tonight.”


End file.
